Blood Moon
by marahh
Summary: After disappearing for 4 months, a very different Charlotte Hale returns to Beacon Hills to stop a murderous Alpha Pack. But when a rash of human sacrifices arise and the Delta's true motives for coming back surface, friendships are tested and the fate of her pack is threatened. Can Charlie live up to her destiny, or will she lose it all? Sequel to "Wolf Moon". (eventual Stiles/OC)
1. Chapter 1

**Hello FanFiction and welcome to the beginning of the third installation to my Teen Wolf "Moon Series"! Many of you have followed this story since the beginning, others have been playing catch-up. To those of you who are new to this story, and my OC, Charlie Hale, I hope you grow to care for her as I do as a character!  
**

 **I wanted to thank a few people for their continued support of this series. My loyal reviewers and PM** **-ers:**

 ** _I Am The Eleventh, Sonny13, Isabelle Sangster, M, Mia, Cally, klandgraf2007, cococrazy4109, and "Guest"_**

 ** _Okay, so without further ado, here it is! My third story, "Blood Moon", which encompasses the amazing 3A season! I own nothing, but my OC, her back-story, and of course, some Delta lore :)_**

 _ **Read away my darlings! It's good to back!** _

_**BLOOD MOON**_

CHAPTER ONE: UNTIL WE GO DOWN

Under the cover of darkness, I drove, the California sky much more lackluster than I remembered.

I suppose I had grown used to the view from my mountain retreat, with millions of stars sprinkled across a black expanse so clear that one could see the whole cosmos laid out before her.

The rolling hills and deep valleys, which overlooked the sleepy country, seemed to have shrunk during my absence.

Even the air, once crisp to my smog-filled city lungs, was no longer fresh, but rather left a stale taste in my mouth. It was stagnant here, like a faded picture that couldn't do the vibrant memory justice.

Speeding down those familiar, desolate roads, it somehow felt so new, so foreign; however, I knew it wasn't the scenery that had changed.

It was me.

Ava once told me that I could go back to Beacon Hills, but never truly return home, and now I understood what she had meant.

I wasn't the same girl that had come to exact revenge upon those that had murdered her family, nor was I the woman that had left to save her humanity.

I was a different person.

Fate had taken me down a long, dark path, testing and forcing me to grow. Fully evolved, I was now aware of who I truly was, and that self-acceptance gave me the control I needed to maintain the delicate balance of my dual nature and face my destiny head on.

So yes, Beacon Hills' Delta was back, but for reasons entirely her own.

* * *

By the time I reached Beacon County's industrial district, the moon had bowed out, making room for the dawn. Radiant blends of rose and gold streaking over the ever-brightening sky, I exited Derek's Camaro, too preoccupied to enjoy the sunrise.

I frowned.

It had rained last night and I wondered how much of the trail had been washed away as I looked from my phone back to the faded address painted on the side of the building.

Well, this was definitely the place.

"1737 Edison Blvd.," I recalled the police scanner's transmission.

With a sigh, I looked around, sharp eyes scouring every inch of the property's exterior.

There were no signs of vandalism or trespassing. No evidence of the assault and battery that was claimed to have also occurred here. The only thing that remained from the investigation were a few strips of yellow caution tape.

Great. A storm passes through, and now cops tampered with my crime scene…

Spending any more time or energy out here would simply be a waste, so I decided to check out the abandoned warehouse.

Moldy walls undoubtedly caked with asbestos, I crinkled my nose, trying to block out the overwhelmingly pungent scent.

I gagged, my tearing eyes slowly adjusting to the pitch black.

Dozens of rusted machines were scattered about, their utility reduced to collecting dust and housing cobwebs. All of the windows were boarded up, save for one, whose shattered remains decorated the far corner.

Gaze dancing over each shard of glass, I then spotted what looked like skid marks.

Head cocked to the side, I walked closer, that rancid stench growing stronger with every step I took.

Now _here_ was something.

I squatted, hand barely tracing the singular set of tire tracks when a sharp shock ran from my fingertips up my arm.

Pain.

Fear.

Panic.

Aggression.

All of these emotions swept over me with an immense amount of force, making it rather hard to concentrate.

Forced to close my eyes, I tried to focus on allowing my instincts to take over; and soon, everything fell into place.

Like a movie playing before my very eyes, I saw it all: a bike crashing through the window, an injured duo falling, two shadowy figures merging into one, and a gun going off, followed by an electrical pulse.

Even the scents became less muddled, the musty air fading away as the smell of burning rubber, blood, sweat, and charred flesh came through; but what really caught my attention was the faintest trace of cinnamon chewing gum.

Isaac Lahey had been here.

Opening my eyes, I blinked away the black and white vision of my wolf form, absolutely certain of what my next move was.

* * *

Beacon Memorial was as packed as ever.

The hustle and bustle in the parking lot was deafening, and although morning had fully arrived, the flashes of red and blue from speeding ambulances were more blinding than the sun.

I squinted as I crossed the lot, witnessing nearly three fender-benders during the two-second journey from my car to the lobby.

Highly amused, I chuckled to myself; however this was short lived, for the instant I stepped through the front door, I was practically run over when a handful of frantic EMTs wheeled some poor bastard in on a stretcher.

Jumping backwards, I then took everything in as a small, nostalgic smirk spread across my face.

I watched the mayhem unfold, with doctors making their rounds, noses buried in case files, while nurses impatiently barked orders at their respective, doe-eyed interns. Disorientated visitors desperately tried to maneuver their way through the confusion, as various elderly patients sat by, as always, complaining about either the food, the staff, or the fact that they weren't dead yet.

It was a much-welcomed mess, for no one at the reception desk took any notice of an unidentified teenager with loosely cured raven hair casually strolling through the chaos.

I had picked up on Isaac's scent in the lobby, yet with so many people milling about, there was no way of knowing which direction he had gone; so, hands shoved in my pockets, I aimlessly wandered around the labyrinth-like corridors, waiting to catch a whiff of anything besides chemicals, bleach, and fecal matter.

 _Tick. Tick. Tick._

I froze, the echoes of my past nightmares rising the surface.

 _Tick. Tick. Tick._

There was no denying it.

That pronounced, rhythmic beat and its hollow echoes had been seared into my memory after the countless evenings I awoke from my night terrors.

 _Tick. Tick. Tick._

Tentatively looking over my shoulder, I saw nothing out of the ordinary, and yet, a cold sweat formed on my brow as goose bumps spread across my skin.

Images of a cane-wielding night stalker with glowing red eyes flashed across my mind as I reminded myself that these auditory hallucinations were normal, and simply a result of my amplified abilities.

"Chill out, Charlie," I murmured under my breath, shaking off my nerves and pressing onward.

 _"_ _You're a creature of both worlds now. Like night and day, there will be no separating the light from the darkness within you. You must find the balance, or risk losing yourself forever,"_ Ava's mind-numbingly cryptic words bounced around my brain as I walked.

 _"_ _You mean lose my humanity," I scoffed, staring directly into her ghostly gray eyes. "Too late for that."_

 _Calm demeanor drastically shifting, the weathered woman with long, silver hair snarled: "Stupid girl. Are you still so naïve as to think that you were ever truly human?" Wrinkled lips curling into a bitter smile, she then leaned back and took a puff from her wooden pipe: "You're a Lorcan and a Hale. Fate was never going to be so kind to you."_

 _Eyes narrowed, I glared at the old crone as I hissed through clenched teeth: "So what do you suggest, huh?"_

 _"_ _Stop being a child and face your demon," her words were filled with just as much venom as my own. "Look her in the eye, give her a name, embrace her. She is as much a part of you, as you are of her. You must accept this, accept the wolf, and relinquish the illusion that you ever had control."_

 _"_ _So that's it then? Just let it win?"_

 _"_ _Do you think this is a game?" her steely eyes flashed dangerously from behind the thin veil of smoke swirling about her harsh face. "There is no winner or loser. There is only trust. You must trust in her and she must trust in you."_

"Trust," I repeated to myself firmly.

The dins of the hospital seemed to have died down completely, with only the sounds of my heels on tile as I rounded the corner.

The hallway was far less packed, with only a couple of nurses quietly gabbing as they turned over a nearby room, and a blind man looking at the hospital directory.

No one seemed to pay me much mind as I followed that hint of cinnamon; yet, I still felt the nagging sensation that I was being watched, but before I could steal a look or notice that the directory did not have brail on it, the sound of a nearby commotion grabbed my attention.

My pace quickened as I pursued those sounds of masculine grunts, groans, and heavy breathing; and yet, when I turned down the next corridor, I found it completely empty.

Brows furrowed, I found myself a bit stumped.

The racket had definitely grown louder, so I knew I was headed in the right direction, but where was the brawl?

The slamming of fist against face was so close that I could practically feel the blows, and yet no one seemed to be rushing over to investigate.

But just as my puzzled gaze landed on the glowing down arrow of a singular elevator, which sat at the far end of the hallway, I knew why I was the only one able to hear this.

I moved closer, the scent of cinnamon also growing stronger.

Glass shattered somewhere within the shaft, and a younger male's cries of pain were soon replaced with choking sounds. Something rolled across the floor, followed by another ears-splitting crash of body slamming into metal.

The elevator dinged as it reached my floor, dented doors malfunctioning as they struggled to open.

"Don't you realize what you're dealing with?" a deep, animalistic voice snarled. "I'm an Alpha."

And then, a muscular man with jet black hair came seemingly out of nowhere, his beefy arms prying the doors open, only to stab the unknown werewolf in the back with his own set of claws.

"So am I," my older cousin growled into the beast's ear, tossing him aside without a second glance as he addressed the teen: "Shouldn't you be in school?"

Body sliding across the floor, leaving a trail of blood behind it, the injured Alpha landed a meter or so from where I stood, my silently watching presence overlooked by all involved.

My view of an unconscious Isaac Lahey slumped over in a wheelchair and Derek helping Scott McCall to his feet was quickly impeded as the enraged Alpha got back up.

The gaping hole in his broad shoulders barely slowed the brute down, and as he cracked his neck and began to advance upon the unsuspecting group, which still occupied the utterly destroyed elevator, I couldn't help but shake my head.

Arrogant as ever, Derek never did grasp the concept of 'the double-tap'; so with a roll of the eye, I grabbed the nearest thing I could find as the olive-skinned werewolf barked: "You really think you have a chance against me?"

Derek turned to face his slowly approaching adversary, his emerald eyes glowing red as his fangs descended.

"A packless Alpha and Beta?" his predatory voice quaked precariously. "I've killed more people than I can count. Faced off against whole packs, alone, and torn each and every single one of them apart with my bare…"

 _WHACK!_

Words cut off, the towering beast swayed from where he stood, and I could only imagine what his expression must have looked like after being rammed across the skull with a fire extinguisher.

Tossing the dented cylinder aside, I merrily watched him fall forward and land with a _splat,_ finally coming face-to-face with two very surprised werewolves.

"Hiya, boys. Missed me?"

* * *

The house was barely visible as I followed Derek's new FJ Cruiser up the overgrown driveway.

It's bare, blackened skeleton was now engulfed in thick vines and moss, an evergreen sapling had taken residence in the crumbling chimney, and the splintered porch had more ferns growing from it than the patchy lawn.

I blinked, unable to conceal my surprise over just how much these past four months had aged the remains of my childhood home.

The surrounding forest no longer encroached upon the property, which once gave it that haunted and spooky feel I had grown rather fond of. Instead, the woods had completely taken over, the scene now serving as yet another reminder that I wasn't actually returning home.

The place was too forlorn, like the ancient ruins of a people long forgotten, a heritage left to rot in the past. The once proud history of the Hale family, _my_ history, had been reduced to nothing but ash and rubble.

I sighed.

Seemed fitting enough…

The sight must have also been quite a shock for McCall, for the Beta merely stood frozen outside the passenger-side door, his expression thoroughly dumbfounded.

But my cousin's muffled grunt soon distracted the tan teen, forcing his gaze to the comical spectacle of Derek jostling Isaac's unconscious form from the back of the black Toyota, his limp limbs flopping every-which-way.

I sniggered to myself as Scott hurried to the Alpha's aid, and once both boys had a firm grip on the deadweight kid, I exited the Camaro.

"You don't still live here, do you?" Scott groaned as they shuffled towards the dilapidated building.

"No," Derek nearly tripped over the broken first step, explaining. "The county took it over."

"Oh, thank God," I spoke for the first time since I surprised both wolves at the hospital, mischievous smirk still tugging on my lips at the memory of their slack-jawed faces. "Cause I'm pretty sure there's a tree growing right through my bedroom."

Still speechless, both Scott and Derek simply stared after me as I jovially sauntered past them and into the dark house.

"So what are we doing here?" McCall inquired slowly, while they shuffled after me, their intent gazes continuing to bore holes into the back of my head.

"There's something I need from here. Something that'll help heal a wound from an Alpha," my cousin responded with the usual amount of detail.

"Yeah, but it did heal," Scott's confusion was apparent as he glanced down at Lahey's seemingly perfect side.

Laying his body of the chipped table, Derek shook his head gravely: "Not on the inside."

At this point, I was wandering around what used to be our living room, running my fingers along the rough, charred walls.

The scent of burned and rotten lumber had been replaced by the rich, musty dampness of the forest that had sprouted up within these four walls, and as my gaze floated from the thin streams of sunlight seeping in through the boarded up windows to the rickety staircase, Scott finally addressed the elephant in the room.

"Are either of you gonna tell me who that was back there? That Alpha?"

How predictable… Derek keeping secrets…

"A rival pack," I nonchalantly shared, small smile creeping across my face as I blew my older cousin's cover.

Green eyes narrowing, Derek glared at my smug form and hissed through clenched teeth: "Charlie…"

"Relax, cousin. Not trying to steal your thunder," I started up the stairs, voice as innocent as ever. "You can tell Scott the whole story while I get what we need."

I could hear Derek's heart beating furiously within his chest as his harsh emerald eyes watched me disappear upstairs, and I couldn't help but grin, for I knew he was about to get an ear-full from McCall.

But, I mean, how long did he really think he could keep this whole 'deranged, murderous Alpha pack' situation under wraps?

He had had zero luck in tracking down Erica and Boyd, Isaac was just attacked and almost killed, and there were still no real leads.

It just wasn't practical to keep the Beta in the dark anymore.

He needed to know. And sure, perhaps I could've been a tad more tactful in how I shared the news, but where was the fun in that?

"Scott, this is my problem," Derek confessed honestly, voice a bit muffled as they moved about. "I know you want to help, and you did. I owe you one."

Technically, they both owed _me_ for saving their asses, I thought to myself, strolling through the corridor and ducking underneath spider webs as I went.

That Alpha would've certainly gotten one, or the both of them, admitted to Beacon Memorial had I not showed up when I did.

As if reading my mind, the tan teen quietly asked: "Why didn't you say she was back in town?"

"You saw my face," Derek gruffly responded. "Did it look like I was expecting her?"

I snorted as heavy silence befell the floor below me.

He sure didn't!

But my laughter instantly died down when I entered my old room.

The ceiling had collapsed from the large oak that had fallen in through the exterior wall, splitting both my bed and dresser clean in half and blocking the closet completely.

Venturing further inside, I stepped over the thick branches as I walked into the bathroom, my heeled booties crunching on more than the fallen leaves that carpeted the hardwood floor.

My brows came together as I scowled, brushing away the dead foliage until I uncovered a mound of shattered glass.

My gaze quickly shot from the pile of broken alcohol bottles to the shattered mirror, only to land on a cracked and rusted syringe lying in the dingy sink.

Evidence of my last grief-induced bender staring me right in the face, my thoughts traveled back to the night we all thought Peter had killed my cousin at the school.

A massive black claw jutting from Derek's hemorrhaging chest, his motionless body tossed to the side, being hunted in the school, almost being forced to shift and kill my friends.

All of the memories from that night came flooding back, as well as my subsequent breakdown, which inevitably led to my taking of another human life and furthering my downward spiral.

My stomach lurched as I became utterly disgusted with myself.

I was so weak back then, so pathetic.

It was sickening.

I continued to cringe at the very thought as I stepped over the embarrassing mess left by the old Charlie, only to rummage around the medicine cabinet whilst the two wolves continued their chat.

"You can go home now, Scott. Go back to being a teenager," Derek dismissed the undoubtedly concerned boy, hoping to avoid the inevitable conversation about what was truly going on in Beacon Hills.

I shook my head at the bull-headed Alpha, only to find the small vile that I had been searching for and pull it out.

An Aunt Talia "original" recipe: crushed comfrey, yarrow, and jewelweed. Looked gross, smelt even more repulsive, but it was one Hell of a restorative.

Any time Derek would get hurt after stupidly taking on a rival pack alone or running his mouth at some random Alpha, Laura would use this herbal remedy to speed up the healing process, whilst simultaneously yelling at him for being such an idiot.

A small, warm grin quirked my lips as I turned on the faucet and waited for the copper colored water to run clear.

"Um, actually Derek, if you wanna repay that favor right now, there's something you can do for me," Scott's tone was eager as I added some of the now clean liquid to the pasty concoction.

Interest somewhat peaked, I corked the beaker and shook it as I headed off to rejoin the group, but before Derek could ask what McCall was talking about, I heard the front door burst open.

"We had a serious problem in Miss Blake's class…"

My journey down the hallway came to a halt the second those rushed and breathy words reached my intently listening ears.

"Hey, can you tell me about it later?" Scott distractedly ended the classic, hyperactive rant Stiles Stilinski was about to go off on.

"Well no, pretty sure this qualifies for immediate discussion," I noted that the dork's voice sounded deeper now, and as I made my way back down the steps, I caught a glimpse of the human rushing into the living room, having most likely spotted Isaac.

"So I guess you guys found him, then," he stated the obvious as I quietly leaned against the doorway, eyeing the three of them as they looked down at the injured Beta.

"Yeah, but Isaac's not the only one we found," Scott's words were weighty as he gave Derek a look.

"Actually, I think it was _me_ that found _you_ , but that's just semantics," I announced myself with a characteristically coy smirk, making the puzzled boy's question get caught in his throat as he spun around, his jaw unhinging the moment his wide, caramel eyes met my own.

Casually strolling past him, I tossed the vile to Derek, only to feign a look of deep thought: "Unless you meant the mysterious new Alpha in town, or his furry friends."

That statement earned me yet another pointed look from Derek, but I was far too entertained by Stiles' reaction to pay any mind.

Unintelligible syllables barely escaped his gaping mouth, his eyes were nearly bulging out of his skull, and his heart was racing so erratically, part of me wondered if it was going to burst from his chest.

"Y-y-you… y-you're… s-she's… she's back?" he turned around wildly and gaped at both wolves, his eyebrows disappearing underneath his noticeably longer dark brown hair.

"We were just as surprised as you are," Derek grumbled, not even bothering to look up as he poured the herbal mixture onto Isaac's faintly bruised ribs, clearly still peeved at me.

Stiles looked as if he had just gotten punched in the face, his helpless expression dazed and lanky body swaying from where he stood.

Honestly, it was sort of adorable.

"Pleasantly surprised," I corrected haughtily, plopping down onto the moth-eaten couch and sending a dense cloud of dust directly into Stiles' still baffled face.

His loud hacks and sputters echoed about the room, masking my amused giggles whilst an equally unconcerned Derek finished working on Isaac and addressed McCall.

"Okay, Scott," he sighed. "What do you want?"

"Oh, not _this_ again," a purple-faced Stilinski coughed as his best friend dopily grinned.

"What?" Derek seemed almost nervous, yet once the Beta stepped forward and took off his charcoal hoodie, my cousin's trepidation became perplexed.

I narrowed my eyes, trying to see what the Alpha was missing, but then a knowing grin curled my lips as Derek groused: "I don't see anything."

"That's the problem."

All three men looked over at me, and although Derek's expression was sour, both of my classmates seemed rather impressed.

"Use your _other_ eyes, Derek," I droned impatiently.

Honestly, who was the big, strong Alpha here anyway?

Maybe he lost his touch once I wasn't there to keep him on his toes anymore…

Derek's stormy expression grew that much more pronounced after my remark; but he soon followed my advice, his eyes flashing ruby red as he examined Scott's toned bicep.

"Yeah, I see it," he avoided my arrogant gaze as his vision became human once again: "It's two bands, right?"

Scott nodded.

"What does it mean?"

My cousin's words must've struck a nerve, for the boy's excited disposition rapidly melted away, his heart audibly sinking within his chest.

"I don't know," he admitted, voice fairly troubled. "It's just something I traced with my fingers," he squatted to demonstrate on the ashen floorboards.

Gaze sharp and intent, Derek perceptively asked the question we were all thinking: "Why is this so important to you?"

"Do you know what the word 'tattoo' means?" he countered.

Opening his mouth to respond, Derek was quickly cut off as Stiles stated proudly: "To mark something."

Unimpressed, Derek merely rolled his eyes as the pale dork winked at him.

"Well, that's in Tahitian. In Samoan, it means 'open wound'," he explained, taking us all aback by his level of insight on the matter. "I knew I wanted to get a tattoo when I turned 18. I always wanted one. I guess I just decided to get it now, to make it a kind of reward."

"For what?" my older cousin probed further.

"For not calling or texting Allison all summer… even when I really, _really_ want to… even when it was so hard not to sometimes."

I stifled my gag.

I'd almost forgotten how nauseating love-struck teenagers were.

Thankfully, I wasn't one anymore.

"I was trying to give her the space she wants, but going on four months, it still hurts," my eyes unexplainably met Stilinski's as the Beta continued: "It still feels like an, uh…"

"Like an open wound," Stiles softly finished his best friend's sentence, honey-suckle eyes darting away from my own unwavering ones.

I watched his cheeks flush and heard his heart flutter, though I, myself, felt nothing but intrigued.

He seemed so sheepish, or guilty even.

God, I couldn't even remember the feeling.

"Yeah," McCall nodded.

"The pain's gonna be worse than anything you've ever felt," Derek continued to be as optimistic as ever.

"Ah, that's great," Stiles cynically murmured, but Scott just spoke over him, tone of voice resolute.

"Do it."

Derek's eyes shot over to my own, sadistically twinkling ones, and after I gave him a small shrug, the Alpha gave his silent consent with nothing but a firm nod.

Scott's chocolate eyes darted from Derek's impassive face to his friend's expectant one, but when he noticed me slowly rising and shimmying off my royal blue leather jacket, the kid rightfully gulped.

"If you want a mark like that to stay permanent," I beamed as I flicked on my blowtorch lighter, it's white-hot flame glistening just as brightly as my eyes, "You're gonna need a little heat."

"Oh, wow," Stiles' voice cracked, complexion draining of all color. "That's a… t-that's a lot for me, so I'm, um, I'm gonna take that as my cue," he started backing away towards the front door. "I'm just gonna wait outside."

"Nope," Derek yanked the squeamish human back by his flannel collar, preventing his escape. "You're gonna hold him down."

"M-me?" he croaked, face sickly green at the very prospect of bearing witness to this. "Y-you don't really need me on this one. Clever, sarcastic comeback, help finishing your homework or meal… I'm your guy. But uh, wrestling with a supernaturally strong and pissed off werewolf? With _these_ arms?" he animatedly showcased those gangly limbs with the most desperate of tones. "N-no. You guys got this one."

"Sorry, sport," I shook my head with false sympathy. "No can do."

"B-but…"

"Trust me," I cut him off as I stepped up to the silent Beta, eyes meeting his dark brown ones as a grin curled my lips: "He's gonna need all the restraint he can get."

Eyes still locked onto Scott's, I felt Derek yank the lighter from my hand as Stilinski emitted a string of whiny moans.

"Hold him," Derek shoved the tan teen down onto the couch while Stiles and I took our positions on either side of him, the human much less enthusiastic than I was about the matter.

I even felt my heart flutter with sadistic glee when Derek clicked the button and I saw that brilliant blue flame jump out.

"Oh my God," Stiles squeaked, but before he could try to slip away at the last second, Derek gave the teen such a dangerous look that even I was a bit intimidated.

So, with quaking hands, the human grabbed onto McCall's now heavily perspiring form, while I eagerly did the same.

This was going to be interesting!

Exchanging curt nods with the Beta, Derek slowly began to bring the hand-held torch closer to Scott's bicep, the teenager's eyes immediately clamping shut whilst his best friend and I watched on in baited breath, and after my cousin's green eyes glanced over my steadfast face, he put the scalding flame directly onto McCall's flesh.

Agonizing screams erupted from young wolf, his amber eyes popping open as he shifted the moment his skin caught fire.

Stiles looked faint, Derek conflicted; yet I couldn't avert my gaze.

The faint lines of the original tattoo came to the surface, the stacked bands growing darker and darker whilst Scott's yelps morphed to glass-shattering howls.

"HOLD HIM BACK!" Derek commanded over the werewolf's animalistic snarls, but to no avail, for Scott suddenly ripped himself free, lunging at the Alpha.

Yet before his razor sharp claws could make contact with my cousin's exposed throat or the Alpha could react, I cracked the rabid beast across the skull with my bare fist, knocking him out.

"Wow," I cocked a brow as I watched him collapse back into the putrid couch and fall completely still, only to glance back up at my gawping companions. "That was pretty cool, huh?"

" _Cool_?" Stilinski incredulously asked, traumatized gaze falling back to Scott's charred and blistered flesh. "His arm looks… and _smells…_ like a well-done hamburger!"  
"I know," I chuckled to myself, leaning closer to the gnarly wound as I gleefully muttered. "So awesome."

"He tried to kill Derek!" the pale dweeb added.

"But he didn't," I impatiently reminded them. "So who cares?"

Why were they both being so goddamn uptight?

It's not like anyone got hurt… well, besides Scott, but he's the one that asked for this.

"I guess it's safe to say she didn't get her humanity back," Stiles mumbled to my stone-faced cousin, immediately making my jovial mood turn hostile.

So they had time to chat about _that_ , but not the pack of power-hungry, bloodthirsty Alphas running around Beacon County, intent to mostly likely kill Derek and anyone who got in their way?

" _What_?" I hissed, forgetting about the slumbering Beta altogether.

"W-what?" Stiles clearly didn't mean for me to overhear. "What was what?" he chortled uneasily, shuffling ever so slightly behind an impassive Derek.

Shooting death rays at both silent boys, I wasn't sure if I should scare the human more, or ream out the Alpha, but before I could decide, a panting Scott bolted upright.

Fully human, his warm, russet eyes gazed down at his muscular arm, the once indiscernible tattoo now very much visible.

"It… it worked," his astounded face broke into the widest and toothiest grin.

"It looks pretty damn permanent now," Stiles deadpanned, tossing the sweatshirt back to Scott as he stood and flexed his arm.

"Yeah. I kind of needed something permanent, though," McCall imparted, mind visibly burdened by deep thought. "Everything that's happened to us," he ruminated aloud, looking amongst the three of us with a saddened expression. "Everything just changes so fast."

Stiles' honey-suckle eyes met mine once again, though this time, I simply put my nose up in the air.

I came back to Beacon Hills to help find Lahey, ended up saving him, Scott, and Derek (twice), and now I was getting lip about losing my humanity after dying for that _VERY SAME PERSON_ in the first place?

No way I was letting that slide!

He had no idea what I had been through these past four months! None of them did!

"Everything's so, um, ephemeral," he finished, oblivious to the palpable tension between his uncomfortable buddy and myself.

"Studying for PSATs?" Stilinski tore his eyes away from my lethal ones, trying to divert the conversation and lighten the mood.

"Yup."

"Nice."

"Well," I sighed, exhaling my indignation in a convincingly aloof manner. "Lighting you on fire was fun and all, but this reunion's getting boring." I threw on my cobalt jacket as I brushed by them. "Let me know if Lahey's got anything useful to share when we wakes up."

Then, hand hovering over the doorknob, I momentarily paused my departure as an idea popped into my head.

I knew that the instant I was out of ear-shot, all three of those idiots would end up gossiping about my humanity, or lack-there-of, _unless_ I gave them another, much more riveting topic to discuss.

"Oh, and Derek?" I flipped my curled raven locks as I pulled open the door, drawing everyone's attention to a very recent, very peculiar renovation. "Next time you decide to paint the door, maybe you should consider doing both sides?"

His stubbled jaw clenched as his bright green eyes darkened, silently forbidding me to speak another word, but it was too late.

I had peaked both Scott and Stiles' interest.

He and I both knew it, and it was only a matter of time before one of them uncovered the Alpha pack's symbol engraved just beneath that thin coat of maroon paint.

"Just a thought," I caustically smirked before turning on my heel and strutting off, leaving an incensed Derek to finally come clean to both suspicious teenagers.

* * *

"You know, I'm starting not to like this idea. It sounds kinda dangerous," a fully healed Isaac Lahey fretfully paced to and fro, his navy eyes darting between Derek's stoic face and my own thoroughly bored one. "Y-you know what? I definitely don't like this idea, and I _definitely_ don't lie _him_."

"You'll be fine," the lack of conviction behind Derek's words did little to ease the Beta's mind.

"Does it have to be him?" Isaac complained, expression so endearingly pathetic that I felt a twinge of empathy for the guy.

If I were in his shoes, there wouldn't be a snowball's chance in Hell that I would've volunteered to invite _that_ psychopath into my already messed up noggin. Even if that meant abandoning the cause and letting the Alpha pack have their way with Erica and Boyd.

But maybe that was the 'lack of humanity' talking…

I huffed grumpily to myself as I crossed my arms, sinking deeper into the couch I was currently lounging on.

I didn't give a rat's ass what these people thought of me anyway. Not anymore, at least.

I was here for one reason, and one reason only, and trying to salvage already doomed friendships certainly wasn't it.

"He's knows how to do it. I don't," the Alpha explained for what felt like the millionth time. "It would be more dangerous if I tried to do it myself."

"Scott doesn't trust him. You know that, right?"

I stopped idly examining my fresh manicure for the first time since both werewolves had entered Derek's spacious loft in the industrial district of Beacon County, my patiently awaiting form taking them very much by surprise.

How Derek didn't think I'd be able to follow a simple paper trail back to the new property was beyond me…

My cousin's expression was flat, but I could hear his heart rate elevate at the mention of the Beta's strong allegiance to McCall.

"A-and personally," Isaac's voice faltered somewhat, for he most likely realized he had snubbed his Alpha. "I'd… well… I'd trust Scott."

"Do you trust me?" Derek stared directly through the boy, as if into his very soul.

"Yeah," the handsome teen nodded, only to reiterate much more resolutely, "Yes. Yes, I do. But I still don't like him."

Facial features easing up, Derek simply shrugged: "Nobody likes him."

And wouldn't you believe it, his timing as impeccable as ever, the elevator's steel door slid open, and in strolled the sociopath of the hour.

"Boys, FYI, coming back from the dead has left my abilities somewhat impaired, but the hearing still works," Peter Hale's offended face became quite snarky as he bitingly quipped: "So I hope you're comfortable saying whatever it is that you're feeling straight to my face."

"Nobody likes you," I rose from my seat, voice flat as I continued, standing directly in front of him: "Especially us."

He cocked a brow, piercing blue eyes peering down his nose at my fake smile, but before he could even utter a word, Derek aggressively cut him off: "Shut up and help us, or get out."

Characteristically cool demeanor unruffled by the coldness directed at him, Peter flicked out his claws: "Fair enough."

The blonde werewolf approached Isaac's trembling form, his icy gaze lit up with predatory exhilaration whilst Derek manually pushed the Beta onto the stool.

"Relax. I'll get more out of you if you're calm," Peter cooed, enjoying every moment of Lahey's torture.

"How do you know how to do this again?" he stalled, bouncing his leg anxiously.

"It's an ancient ritual used mostly by Alphas, since it's a skill that requires quite a bit of practice," he elucidated boastfully, forcing my exasperated eyes to look towards the heavens. "One slip, and you could paralyze someone. Or kill them."

"You… you've had a lot of practice, though, right?" the boy's wide, navy eyes watched as my estranged father circled him like a hawk.

"Well," he ruminated aloud, tracing his sharp nails along the back of Isaac's clammy neck. "I've never paralyzed anyone."

"Wait," Isaac furrowed his brows as he looked to Derek and I, "Does that mean you…"

The teenager's increasingly alarmed question quickly dropped off, however, for Peter had unceremoniously jammed his claws deep into the Beta's spinal chord, silencing him immediately.

Head thrown back, both Peter and Isaac's eyes rolled to the back of their heads. Bodies beginning to vibrate and twitch, I inched closer with keen interest, only for Derek to grab my wrist and yank me away.

"Don't touch them," he ordered forcefully, worry decorating his strong facial features.

"Wait," Peter's voice sounded far away as he searched Isaac's subconscious. "I… I think I see them."

But then Lahey's bright yellow eyes flew open, an invisible force propelling my father's body away and slamming him into a metal support beam.

"What did you see?" the Alpha rushed forward, voice urgent and pulse racing just as fast as his uncle's.

"It was confusing," his gaze was unfocused as he thought hard. "Um, images. Vague shapes."

"But you saw something," Derek pressed.

Peter's unnerved stare shot over to Isaac's heavily panting form, the dazed boy gingerly touching the fresh cuts on the back of his bleeding neck.

"He found them."

"Erica and Boyd?"

"I barely saw them. I mean, just glimpses."

"But you did see them," I handed Lahey a towel so we wouldn't bleed everywhere, though my focus was solely on Peter.

Nodding, my father's expression grew even more perturbed: "And worse."

Emerald eyes flitting over to my serious face, Derek and I exchanged knowing looks as he stated grimly: "Deucalion."

"He was talking to them. Something about time running out."

"What does it mean?" Isaac's shaky form slowly made its way over, his Alpha helping Peter to his equally unstable feet.

"He's gonna kill them," Derek answered darkly, jaw clenched.

"No, no, no, no, no. He didn't say that," Peter clarified, eyes dancing amongst all of our watchful faces. "But he _did_ make them a promise that by the next full moon, they'd both be dead."

I heard Derek and Isaac's hearts nearly stop in their chests as my older cousin dreadfully repeated: "The next full moon?"

Tension headache setting in, I pinched the bridge of my nose and closed my eyes, unsurprised by this family's continual lack of luck as I voiced the singular, unsettling thought that was at the forefront of everybody's mind.

"Which is tomorrow night."


	2. Chapter 2

**HOLY COW!**

 **38 Followers, 26 Favorites, and 9 Reviews on the very first chapter?! Wow, wow, wow!**

 **Speechless, as always, by the lovely reception you guys have given the first installation of Blood Moon and the continuation of Charlie's story!**

 **Special thanks to:** **cococrazy4109, "Guest", Heather, "Guest 2", klandgraf2007, Lauren, zikashigaku, GalaxyMidnight, and "Guest 3"**

 **I'm beyond thrilled to hear how much you liked the first chapter of this story. Some of you have followed from the very beginning, and others just caught up to the fun! The kind words and support are much appreciated.**

 **To all of the new followers and favorites: THANK YOU! And don't be shy to share thoughts or pointer via review or PM ****:)**

 **I wanted to note that I do not own anything other than Charlie and some Delta lore. The wonderful world of Teen Wolf belongs to Jeff Davis.**

 **A couple of things about this and the upcoming update: I merged the first two episodes and am flipping some of the timing around, so if it seems out of order from the actual show, that was my doing.**

 **Also, any block** ** _Italix_** **represent flashbacks. We'll be getting a lot of them so we can see what Charlie's been up to over the past four months/get to know Ava.**

 **This installation was inspired by** **Zack Hemsey** **'s amazing score "** **Mind Heist** **." The title not only fits the content of this chapter, but I felt that the music helped amplify the atmosphere I was hoping to create.**

 **As usual, I will be uploading a new 8tracks to go along with this story. I'll most likely publish it somewhere around chapter 6.**

 **Okay, done rambling. Take a gander and let me know what you think of this tension-filled update!**

 **xoxo marahh**

CHAPTER TWO: MIND HEIST 

_"So wolfsbane_ really _has no effect on you," Ava called down to me with an air of sadistic amusement. "Go figure."_

 _Her already slight frame was even more miniscule from where I stood a good hundred feet below, waist-deep in water that was filled with an assortment of those beautiful purple florets._

 _"I wouldn't say that," I hissed, clenching my fangs as I watched more of my sizzling skin bubble off._

 _"You should've died from exposure an hour ago," she simply continued, resigned to my plight as she tossed more petals into the claustrophobic well I had been trapped in for five long hours._

 _"Like I said, Gerard killing me must've made me immune."_

 _"_ NO," _she spat, voice dripping with the usual amount of venom I had grown used to during my first week here. "Being a Delta gave you that ability. Dying simply made you…"_

 _"Evolve faster," I cut her off with an equal amount of impatience. "Yeah, yeah. I get it. Lesson learned. Now can you let me out?"_

 _Evidently, my words were deemed humorous by the crazy bitch, for a shrill laugh erupted from her raspy throat, making me wince even more._

 _"Let you out?" she took a drag from her pipe, those ghostly orbs piercing straight through the thick veil of smoke directly into my half-shifted face. "You're an abomination against nature and have sullied the great Lorccán Tribe with your… your_ lycanthrope _blood. I should have ended your life the second you set foot onto this land."_

 _All semblance of self-control was slipping away as a murderous growl rose from deep within my belly._

 _"Well sorry to disappoint_ Auntie Ava _," I snarled, "but you're gonna have to be a bit more creative, cause this isn't going to kill me."_

 _"Stupid half-breed. We do not kill our own," she shook her head in bitter disappointment, only to lean further in as she shot back, "Though I know that concept is foreign to something like you."_

 _Before I could stop it, my vision flashed to black and white._

 _Beyond the wolfsbane scorching my body and the upcoming full moon, Ava's incessant insults were enough to make me snap._

 _All I could focus on was the sound of blood pumping through her withered arteries and imagine slashing into that concaved chest. I wanted to rip her apart, relish in the taste of her insides as she begged for her pathetic little life, and it took everything I had to keep from giving in and attacking the old hag right then and there._

 _But she was my only hope in saving my humanity, and I needed to keep it together, even if it was against my baser instincts._

 _"Then what's the point of all this?" my animalistic voice quaked so violently that pieces of the crumbling stone wall fell in, splashing the cool, acidic water against my face and stinging my cheeks._

 _"The point is to push you to your limit. To see how far you'll bend before you break."_

 _I closed my eyes, attempting to center myself and block out the pain._

 _Focus, Charlie._

 _Breathe._

 _Don't give in._

 _Don't give her the satisfaction._

 _"Yeah well, shove it," I felt my fangs and claws recede, only to defiantly look back up at her with my, once again, human eyes. "Cause I'm not going to."_

 _"And that's precisely the problem," her tone was flat._

 _Confused, I didn't quite know what to say, so I merely stared up at her as she rummaged through her animal-skin satchel and pulled out a handful of delicate white flowers: African Dream Root._

 _"You're holding back," Ava began plucking the white petals from their bright green stems._

 _Wrinkled hand extending over the opening, she slowly began dropping the plants in, piece by piece._

 _Pulse escalating, I knew whatever was going to happen, it wasn't going to be enjoyable._

 _Instinctively looking for an escape, I watched the ivory petals flutter closer and closer to me, memories of that snowy dream I had whilst on my deathbed flashing across my anxious mind._

 _"You're still fighting her," she explained further, sprinkling more of those mysterious blossoms into the well._

 _"Of course I am!" I thrashed about wildly. "You haven't taught me how to control it yet!"_

 _"It's not about control," her patience was apparently wearing thin, as was my own._

 _I let out an acerbic snort: "You tell me that when she's tearing you limb from limb."_

 _"I said you needed to face her."_

 _Wide, frantic eyes shooting about as the white buds began to mask the wolfsbane churning throughout the chilly water, I suddenly felt a sense of calm wash over me._

 _I could no longer feel my prickling skin peeling off, or the agonizing tremors shooting throughout my body. I could barely even think anymore, my mind growing blank and vision hazy._

 _What was happening?_

 _"Yeah, but not now," I managed to blurt out, voice faint and almost pitiful. "I-I'm not strong enough. She'll take over."_

 _"Let her."_

 _"No!" I shouted desperately, as the circular walls began to spin at a dizzying rate. "You don't understand."_

 _I swayed, grasping at the slick, mossy walls for support as my eyes began to roll back into my head._

 _"And neither do you."_

 _I heard my bones involuntarily snapping, my gray eyes beginning to glow that eerie shade of lilac: "Stop it!"_

 _"Let me see what you're so afraid," her hoarse voice sounded distant to my ringing ears._

 _"Please, stop!" my spine cracked, claws tearing through my bleeding nail beds._

 _"Let me see the darkness you keep buried inside!"_

 _I could no longer resist._

 _My whimpers of feeble protest slowly morphed into primal rumbles, as I felt myself slipping away and that demon taking over._

 _"Let me see la louve fantôme!"_

 _And in that split second, everything I had been suppressing rushed to the surface, with nothing but a resounding howl escaping my wolf form and silencing Charlie Hale._

The memory of those blood-chilling calls bounced about my brain as I stood outside the animal clinic, a deep frown etched upon my face as I gazed up at the nearly full moon, idly twirling a tin compact between my fingers.

We had rushed to Dr. Alan Deaton's place of work as soon as Isaac recovered from Peter's invasive little stunt; and although I pointed out that an extra helping hand would've made setting things up go a lot faster, Derek was adamant that I wait outside for Scott and Stiles.

But I wasn't dumb.

There was no _real_ reason for me to be out here, waiting for two silly teenagers to come back from some random birthday party.

My cousin simply wanted some alone time with vet, and although I couldn't hear through the mountain ash barrier, I could only assume their private little chitchat was about me.

Sure, my sudden arrival must've taken them all by surprise, and my newfound strength could've been interpreted as somewhat unnerving, but to be honest, I couldn't quite grasp why everyone seemed so on edge around me.

It's not like I was acting hostile or erratic.

I was in complete control, and my attitude was beyond genial, if I did say so myself…

Maybe they just didn't know how to process that I was actually at peace with myself for once.

A heavy sigh escaped my exasperated lips, but before I could give the matter further thought, a pair of blinding headlights came into view.

I perked up, pocketing the thin, metal container.

"What took you guys so long?" I asked, not really interested in their response.

"Heather's party was a couple towns over," Stiles explained to the back of my head, for I had already turned and stalked off towards the shadowy building. "Which you obviously don't care about…"

I chose to ignore his sarcastic retort as I opened the door and entered the clinic's dark lobby, stifling the urge to gag as a rancid odor assaulted my heightened senses.

"God," Scott choked from just behind me. "What's that smell?"

"The mutilated corpses of about a dozen or so furry patients," I explained impassively, hopping over the receptionist's desk and unlocking the door for both extremely disturbed teenagers.

"Apparently they offed themselves," I looked between both of their gaping faces, tone rather bored as I added. "Guess deer and crows aren't the only animals in town going suicidal."

Mouth agape, Stilinski only managed a loud gulp as Scott's saddened brown eyes looked directly into my cold ones: "Does Deaton have any idea why?"

"Fear," I gave my simple, albeit disconcerting response.

The boys exchanged nervous looks, only to make their way past me and head down to the first examination room, and as we opened the door, we were met with a surprising sight, indeed.

The entire place was cleared out, save for an enormous tub that was positioned in the center of the room. Already over-flowing, Derek, Isaac, and Dr. Deaton were busy pouring mounds of ice into the stainless steel container.

"Ah, just in time," the veterinarian barely glanced over his shoulder at us, his keen eyes lingering over mine for the briefest of moments.

"Just in time for what?" Scott asked his boss, as the Alpha tossed the empty bags into the garbage.

"To help Isaac remember," my cousin rolled up his sleeves, emerald eyes as unreadable as ever.

"I'm afraid it's not going to be particularly comfortable," Deaton stated the obvious, turning to Lahey's uncertain face. "But if we can slow your heart rate down enough, you'll slip into a trance-like state."

"Like being hypnotized," the Beta mused aloud.

"Exactly," the bald man nodded. "You'll be half transformed. It'll let us access you subconscious mind."

Fingers dipping into the icy water, Scott immediately withdrew his hand and asked with raised brows: "How slow does his heart rate need to be?"

"Very slow."

"Okay, well how slow is very slow?" Derek pressed.

"Nearly dead," he clarified gravely.

Compared to my wide-eyed and dismayed peers, I, myself, was unphased by the news and couldn't help but casually blurt out: "Seems like decent enough odds."

I immediately regretted opening my mouth.

"What?" I shifted underneath everyone's scrutinizing stares, innocently regarding the lot of them. "Nearly dead's _way_ better than actually dead. Trust me."

I watched as thoughtful expressions replaced many of their judgmental ones, only to catch Stiles staring at me, guilt written across his face.

"I-it's safe, though, right?" Isaac inquired nervously.

"Do you want me to answer honestly?" Deaton raised his brows.

Hopefulness floundering, the Beta shook his head stiffly: "No. Not really."

Then the room fell quiet, the tension so thick one could cut through it with a knife, and as we all stood there, somberly staring into that massive tub of freezing cold water, a loud latex _snap_ broke the silence.

Whirling around, we all saw Stilinski playing with some surgical gloves, the nerd's soft chortles dying away the instant Derek shot him a dangerous look.

"W-what?" he stammered.

Derek simply glowered at the human, holding out his hand until Stiles begrudgingly yanked off the glove and passed it over.

"Look," the Alpha then sighed, tossing the thing away, "if it feels too risky, you don't have to do this."

The thought process behind Lahey's sapphire eyes was apparent.

Apprehension. Obligation. Fear. Loyalty. All of those conflicting emotions were wrestling within his mind, and rightfully so.

Sure, I suppose I could imagine he wanted to save his friends… even if they were pretty much doomed to begin with… and maybe the idea of risking his life held a certain amount of grandeur to it. But if anyone understood the innate power self-preservation and how it could sneak up and sabotage even the noblest of causes, it was me.

Face contorted, the boy weighed his options, yet once his burdened gaze landed on his patiently awaiting audience, he exhaled, pulled off his shirt, and headed towards the overflowing bathtub.

Pleasantly surprised by the sudden change of scenery, I cocked a brow, unable to do much else besides admire Isaac's half-naked form.

I mean, I always knew he was handsome, but damn!

Lahey must have felt my intent stare, for the timid teen's dimpled cheeks reddened, but when a strange, prickling heat started to spread across the side of my face, forcing me to turn, I caught Stiles watching me with the oddest of expressions.

Lips taught and nose crinkled, his caramel eyes were scrunched up as he quickly looked away, only making my crooked grin widen that much more, but then Lahey let out a sharp breath and my smirk faltered.

Already chattering from where he sat, the icy pool had paralyzed the baby wolf, his breathing much more pronounced as he puffed through the physical shock and painful cold.

Scott followed Derek's lead, rolling up his own sleeves as they took their positions on either side of the shivering Beta, and after all three of them exchanged quick looks and Isaac offered a stiff nod, they guided him backwards, dunking him into the frozen depths.

I absentmindedly stepped closer, tucking a loose curl behind my ear as I watched on, almost entranced by the chunks of ice slowly drifting over Lahey's closed eyes and the bubbles that slowly escaped his parted lips.

"When will we know he's been under long enough?" McCall asked, eyes flitting up from his friend's submerged body to his silently observing boss.

"You'll know."

Stiles was gnawing on his fingers behind me, the subtle _pops_ of nail between teeth adding to the mounting anxiety within the clinic, and after what felt like an eternity, Isaac began to stir.

Jerking side-to-side, both wolves had to use their entire body weight to keep Lahey from wriggling free, but as his movements became more violent, water and ice sloshing over the edges of the bathtub and soaking everyone present, Derek and Scott couldn't hold on any longer.

Human face replaced with his wolf one, Isaac broke free, shooting upwards as his eerie, ochre eyes flew open and an animalistic roar escaped his heaving lungs.

"Get him back under!" Deaton commanded as Stiles rushed forward and grabbed Isaac's flailing legs. "Hold him!"

"We're trying!" my cousin barked, all three boys using all of their strength in an attempt to restrain the violently thrashing boy.

I shook my head.

Didn't they realize how strong instinct to live was? That Isaac's reflex to fight tooth and nail for just one more breath wasn't something they could quell so easily?

"You need to hold him!" Alan's shouts echoed about my brain as I reflected upon my own, lifelong struggle to survive. "Get him back under!"

 _SPLASH!_

A wave of ice-cold water hit me square in the face, snapping me out of personal ruminations.

Wiping my sour face dry, I grumpily walked around the three grunting boys, ignoring them as they all gave me an inquisitive look.

Seriously, it was like I had to do everything around here…

I inhaled deeply, blocking out the sound of everyone's erratic pulses, and as I exhaled, my vision faded to black and white and I thrust a single hand into chilly tub, easily detaining the wolf by his chest.

But when I looked to Deaton for our next round of instructions, I was met with three gawking young men.

The lavender hue of my wolf eyes was evidently still shocking to both McCall and Stilinski, and my newfound strength definitely seemed to take my cousin aback, but not the veterinarian.

No, the good doctor remained unphased by everything, his light brown gaze holding the slightest hint of satisfaction.

Unnerved as ever by his sheer lack of surprise, I reminded myself that he was no longer the only one who knew more than he let on.

"Now remember," Alan spoke, bringing my attention to the fact that Isaac had stopped moving. "Only I can talk to him. Too many voices will confuse him and draw him out."

Nodding in unison, all four of us released the motionless teenager and stepped back, watching as his corpse-like form floated to the surface of the bathtub and took a shallow breath.

"Isaac?" Deaton called softly, tone soothing as he stepped closer to the almost serene werewolf. "Isaac, can you hear me?"

Eyes still closed, the Beta replied in a faraway voice: "Yes. I can hear you."  
"This is Dr. Deaton. I'd like to ask you a few questions. Is that all right?"

"Yes."

All eyes were on the two conversing people, however, I could still feel Stilinski's gaze darting over to my impassive face every one in a while.

What the Hell was he staring at?

I crossed my arms, making a point to meet his uncomfortable gaze the next time he looked my way, promptly forcing those caramel orbs down to his damp sneakers.

"I want to ask you about the night you found Erica and Boyd. I want you to remember it for me in as vivid detail as possible, like you're actually there again," the vet's words caused an immediate shift in Lahey's once restful disposition.

"I… I don't want to do that," he muttered, shaking his head fretfully as he repeated himself with a bit more fervor. "I don't… I don't want to do that."

The lights within the animal clinic flickered as the distant rumbles of an impending thunderstorm sounded about the dead-silent room.

"I don't want to. I don't want to do that," Isaac had grown frantic enough for both Derek and Scott to place firm hands on his muscular shoulders.

"Isaac, it's all right. Relax. They're just memories. You can't be hurt by a memory," Alan reassured the entranced teen as a bolt of lightening lit the blackened sky outside.

"I don't wanna to that."

"It's all right."

Heavy rain began pelting against the windows, which rattled as another deafening crash rang out.

"I don't wanna do that," the lights flickered some more as my hair began to stand on end.

Maybe it was the storm, or perhaps it was Lahey's performance, but to be completely honest, I was getting spooked, and I could tell I wasn't the only one.

"Relax. Relax," Deaton's melodic tones seemed to have done the trick, for soon, Isaac was back to his original, restful state. "Good. Now let's go back to that night. To the place where you found Erica and Boyd. Can you tell me what you see? Is there a kind of building? A house?"

"It's not… it's not a house. It's stone. I think its marble," the boy's blue lips barely moved as he mused aloud.

"That's perfect, Isaac," the doctor encouraged his subject. "Can you give me any other descriptors?"

Expression one of deep thought, Lahey breathed: "It's dusty. And empty. Like an abandoned building?"

Another crack of lightning shook the building, sending a shiver up my spine as the Beta fell silent, save for his sudden, uneven breaths.

"Isaac?" Deaton called, unable to hear just how much the baby wolf's pulse had suddenly spiked. "Isaac?"

Pale face turning sheet white, Lahey gasped, eyes dancing behind his eyelids at a dizzying rate: "Someone's here. Someone's here."

And then, as the lights dimmed again, the Beta's pruned hand shot up out of the water, tightly latching onto my wrist.

A sharp and startled hiss escaped my throat as I tried to yank myself free, but Lahey's grip was too strong, his nails digging deeply into my flesh as his voice quaked: "Someone's here!"

"Dr. Deaton?" Scott's words were barely above a whisper, his chocolate eyes darting from my pain-filled face to Isaac's petrified form.

"Isaac, relax," the veterinarian tried to ease the boy's mind again, but he was clearly spiraling.

Heart beating dangerously fast, I sensed how close he was to shifting again as his alarmed voice grew husky: "No, no, no."

My wide eyes met Derek's equally unnerved ones.

Deaton tried and failed to to call out to the boy once again: "Isaac."

"They see me…"

He was drawing blood now, the warm, crimson liquid trickling from my broken skin in sharp contrast to his colorless fist.

"They're just memories, Isaac," Deaton's composure was faltering as we all watched the Beta involuntarily bear his claws.

"They see me!" he suddenly tugged me closer, tearing even deeper into my flesh as I let out a low yelp of pain.

"Isaac, relax. You won't be hurt by your memories."

No, but _I_ certainly might!

Not that anyone cared…

Without debate, I shoved my free hand into my pocket and pulled out the tin, and before Beacon County's most enigmatic resident could tell me to stop, I dumped all of the crushed white powder into the water.

The second those flakes dissipated within the lapping pool, the boy's grip loosened, and as he released my bleeding hand and slipped back into his coma-like slumber, I looked up.

"What was that?" Derek demanded, green eyes glued to Isaac's virtually lifeless form. "What did you do to him?"

"African Dream Root," I noted the smallest of smirks tugging on Deaton's lips before condescendingly adding, "and I'm helping to expedite this entire process while simultaneously making sure no more blood gets spilt. _You're welcome_."

"African Dream Root?" McCall asked, genuine curiosity curbing the friction between Derek and I.

"Pretty much let's you poke around someone's head and see whatever's floating around in their subconscious. You know, phobias, dreams, repressed memories," I explained, expression darkening as I thought back to my time in the well. "Even the crap you'd be better off forgetting."

Everyone's gazes grew rather sullen over my words, which led me to believe they understood I was talking from experience.

"So, yeah," I shook off their pitiful gazes and shrugged nonchalantly: "He's all yours, doc."

Deaton wasted no time: "Now, Isaac, you need to tell us what you see."

There was no reaction from the Beta, and while the vet attempted to coax out a response, I heard Stiles mutter: "Here."

It took me a second to realize whom he was speaking to, but when a soft cloth was thrust into my sticky, bloodstained hand, my gaze met the same pair of eyes that used to make my heart flutter.

He seemed apprehensive, timid even, but I simply felt numb, with a dull sense of irritability as I snatched the towel and slapped it on my smarting wound.

"Isaac," Alan pressed, Lahey's soft grunt inviting him to continue. "I need you to tell us everything."

The boy's eyes obediently fluttered open, however his baby blues seemed darker, as if a dense fog had rolled in behind them, preventing all light from getting through.

His breathing was slow, his chest rhythmically rising and falling as the low rumbles of thunder and pitter-patter of rain filled the room. And as another bolt of lightning flashed across his frigid form, illuminating his purple lips and anemic skin, I couldn't help but cringe.

God, did I look this creepy when Ava forced me to take this stuff?

"I hear him," his eyes stared blankly at the ceiling. "Boyd. He's talking about the full moon, about being out of control when it rises."

"Is he talking to Erica?"

"I think so. I can't… I can't see her. I ca-can't… I can't see either of them."

Derek shifted, and although his pulse was steady and expression stoic, I could see the worry behind those brooding, emerald orbs.

"Can you hear anything else?"

"They're worried. They're worried what they'll do during the full moon. They're worried they're going to hurt each other."

The lights flickered some more as a disturbing thought crossed my mind.

"Derek," I looked to my cousin's equally grim face, voicing what we knew to be the harsh truth: "If they're locked in together on the full moon…"

"They're gonna tear each other apart," the Alpha finished, gazing past both Scott and Stiles' horrified faces to the doctor.

"Isaac," Alan's words, though low in volume, were much more urgent. "We need to find them _right now_. Can you see them?"

"No."

"Do you know what kind of room it is? Is there any kind of marker? A number on a door? A sign?" he fired off question after question, whilst everyone's pounding hearts grew louder with each passing moment.

But then, without warning, Isaac sat up, a distressed gasp escaping his shivering mouth.

"T-they're here," he whispered, the sight of him so thoroughly alarming that we all took an involuntary step backwards. "They… they…"

"Shhh. It's all right," Deaton hushed, trying to ease the boy back into the water, but Isaac wouldn't budge.

"N-no," Lahey's petrified voice was barely audible, and I could only imagine what nightmarish memory he was being forced to relive right now.

I felt a tiny lump form in my throat, but I merely swallowed it.

"T-they s-see me," Isaac's hysterical utterances were almost drowned out by the howling wind. "Oh God… oh God! They found me!"

"This isn't working!" my hotheaded cousin rashly pushed past the animal doctor. "Isaac, where are you?"

"I can't see them. I-it's too dark."

"Just tell me where you are!"

"You're confusing him," Deaton scolded the Alpha, as Lahey's glassy eyes momentarily rolled into the back of his head.

"I can't see!" the poor Beta screamed, the lights beginning to flicker at a dizzying pace.

"Isaac!" Derek ignored Alan's warning, lunging forward and firmly gripping the boy by his quaking shoulders.

"Derek, don't!" it was my turn to step forward, trying to pull him back before the teenager's racing heart gave out. "He's too far under!"

"He could go into shock, Derek" Dr. Deaton added before Scott chimed in just as loudly: " _Let him go_!"

But the big oaf was as bull-headed as ever, brusquely knocking me off as he shook Isaac some more: "Where are you? What did you see?"

"Derek!" I angrily shouted as another violent crack of thunder sounded.

But then Isaac murmured something that made all of us stop in our tracks…

 _POP!_

 _POP!_

 _POP!_

All of the light bulbs within the room started exploding left and right as a massive power surge swept through the rattling clinic, showering us with fragments of shattered glass.

"A vault! It's a bank vault!"

Having been shielding our faces and heads during the hail of glass shards, we peeked out from underneath our scraped arms to see that a completely coherent Isaac Lahey was now standing outside the tub.

Scott hurried forward and quickly wrapped a heavy woolen blanket around his friend's frozen body, allowing him to continue through chattering teeth: "It's an… an ab-abandoned bank. Uh, B-Beacon Hills F-first National B-bank, and… and they're k-keeping them l-locked inside. Inside the vault."

We stood in stunned silence, barely able to look the handsome boy with wavy brown hair in the eye, and it didn't take him long to figure out that something was very wrong.

"What?" his once triumphant expression twisted into one of confusion and worry.

"You don't remember what you said right before you came out of it, do you?" Stiles asked, words filled with the same heaviness we were all feeling.

Wide navy eyes scanning all of our despondent faces, Isaac shook his head: "No?"

Stilinski swallowed hard before delivering the bad news: "You, um, you said that when they captured you, they dragged you into a room and… and there was a body in it."

No longer shivering, Lahey's meager voice still shook as he asked: "W-what body?"

"Erica. You said it was Erica."

* * *

"She's not dead," Derek had been pacing about in utter denial for over fifteen minutes. "She's not."

"Derek, he literally said 'there's a dead body. It's Erica.' Doesn't exactly leave us much room for interpretation," Stiles snarkily stated as he helped Scott put the oversized tub back into the supply closet.

"But then who was in the vault with Boyd?" the Alpha countered through his teeth, stubbled jaw clenched.

"Someone else," I paused from mopping the floor, rolling my wounded wrist as I irascibly grunted. "Obviously."

Evidently, Derek didn't appreciate the callousness of my remark, for he was shooting daggers my way as Isaac nodded at my injury: "Sorry about that."

"It's fine," I ignored my cousin's glowers as I shrugged. "I think it's almost healed."

"Really?" Lahey seemed surprised, but when I removed the towel and revealed the faint marks scarcely marring my skin, the boy raised his brows: "Wow, that was fast."

All eyes in the room were now focused on my arm, and I immediately got a hot flash.

"Yeah," I muttered, handing the Beta the mop. "Guess so."

Quickly retreating to the corner, I threw my leather jacket back on to hide the evidence, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up under everyone's intense scrutiny.

I already felt out of place to begin with, but the way they kept acting around me, the shifty looks, awkward conversations, and even more uncomfortable silences, it was enough to make me scream.

But I couldn't, for I knew that if I blew up, it would just affirm their thoughts about my 'lack of humanity'.

Face burning, I refused to turn around.

Fine!

Let them stare at the volatile Delta that came back from the dead.

Let them stare at the freak.

I didn't care… but I also wasn't gonna subject myself to their silent judgments either…

"Maybe it was the girl on the motorcycle," Scott thankfully spoke up as they all returned to their respective tasks. "You know, the one that saved you?"

Motorcycle?

Pulling some hair from underneath my jacket collar, my thoughts drifted back to the warehouse I scouted out upon my arrival back in Beacon County.

The scent of burned rubber and adrenaline.

The vision of two figures riding a motorbike, whilst two creatures with glowing red eyes followed in close pursuit.

The two assailants merging into one.

The blood.

The fear.

The electrical pulse.

"No," Lahey replied thoughtfully as I faced the group once again. "She wasn't like us, and whoever was in the vault with Boyd was," he finished cleaning up the floor.

"What if that's how Erica died? Like what if they pit them against each other during the full moons and see which one survives?" Stiles asked. "Like a werewolf thunder dome."

The human instantly shrank within himself when the Alpha gave him a pointed look: "Then we get them out. Now."

"Be smart about this, Derek," Alan put the mop away and pushed the metal gurney back into the center of the room. "You can't just go storming in."

"If Isaac got in, then so can we," my cousin stubbornly argued.

"But I didn't get through a vault door," Lahey raised a valid point, to which my companions nodded in agreement.

"We need a plan," McCall looked around the examination table, at which we had gathered, his words more of a command than a suggestion.

"How are we gonna come up with a plan to break into a bank vault?" Derek barked. "In less than 24 hours?"

"Um, I think someone already did," Stiles spoke up, only to read off his phone: "'Beacon Hills First National Bank closes its doors three months after vault robbery'. Doesn't say how it was robbed on the site, but it probably won't take long to find out."

And although Stilinski's words seemed to lift most spirits, Derek's cynicism remained.

"How long?" he demanded, his eyes piercing.

"It's the Internet, Derek," the dork scoffed loudly, already beginning to type away on his iPhone. "Okay? Minutes…"

My lip quirked as I examined the Alpha's peeved face, but when Stiles glanced up at my slightly amused expression, I reverted back to my usual aloofness.

The kid's proud grin fell as he watched me stroll towards the door.

"Uh, Charlie?"

I glanced over my shoulder at Scott, his body tense, as if he were walking on eggshells.

"You're leaving?"

"Well, yeah. Looks like you two got the research part under control, and there's no way in Hell I'm staying up until tomorrow night with Grumpy over there," I nodded irrelevantly to Derek, who's permanent scowl merely deepened. "So I'm going to bed."

The lightness of my tone, given the circumstances, rendered the room speechless, which prompted me to add even more gaily: " See you all at school."

And as I exited the room and made my way down the dark corridor, I heard Stiles stammer to the other restless bystanders: "A-at school?"

That's right, Stilinski, I smirked to myself.

Beacon Hills High School better batten down the hatches, cause Charlie Hale's coming back.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi all!**

 **The feedback for the first two chapters of this has been absolutely astounding! I am speechless and forever grateful for all of the support you guys have given both me and this story.**

 **I want to apologize for the delay in my updates. Work has been insane and I hit a major writers block. Hence why this update is a bit shorter than usual. But, good news, it is more light-hearted, as next chapter will have some dark flashbacks and a heavier, more dramatic feel to it.**

 **A few of you were worried about Charlie's darker nature and questionable lack of humanity. Though this installation does not confirm whether or not her humanity is literally gone or if PTSD is a factor from, well dying… her black humor is all throughout this chapter. Quite fun to write this version of her! This chapter also features her reunions with the rest of the pack and helps shape how their relationships will be in the upcoming chapters.**

 **A very special thanks to my reviewers: _Zikashigaku, Lauren, Heather, Guests 1 &2, I Am The Eleventh, Teresa, Guests 3&4, xxxanniexx, klandgraf2007, Guest 5, ana, moriarty13, guest 6, & laurenalyse24_ \- you guys make writing this stuff so much more fun! **

**The song that inspired this chapter is "Better Strangers" by Royal Blood. Kind of fits where Charlie's head space is currently at, and it's got a badass vibe.**

 **Okay done rambling! Please read away and leave any comments/suggestions if you got the time! Xoxo marahh**

CHAPTER THREE: BETTER STRANGERS

One year.

Twelve months.

365 days and 525,600 minutes.

That's how much time had passed since I first sat here, parked in this very same car, staring at Beacon Hills High School.

Besides the set of windows currently being replaced after yesterday's 'freak' avian incident, the place looked exactly as I remembered. From those faded brick walls, barely held together by the dried out and crumbling mortar, to the wobbly flagpole that still proudly sported a 'Go Cyclones' flag from 1983, every inch remained just as I had left it.

I, myself, was even following my irreverent little tradition of arriving one day and a class period late, the prospect of starting another school year equally as uninspiring as the last.

But being a junior had have to have _some_ perks, like calling dibs on the upperclassman parking spots and lunch tables. Plus, by some miracle I passed Mr. Harris' Chemistry final, which opened my science curriculum up to one of the three free-elective courses.

I, naturally, chose Computer Science.

I also managed to snag myself a second free period by signing up for the Cross Country team as a substitute for P.E. this semester; and although I was the number one advocate for avoiding any and all extra curricular activities, I figured what the Hell?

Running around the woods for an hour in exchange for sleeping in on Tuesdays and Thursdays? Count me in.

And sure, perhaps I wasn't thrilled to be returning with the same tense familial relations and lack of friends as last year, but the more I thought about it, the more I didn't care…

Or couldn't care…

Whatever. Semantics.

Regardless of the reason, I discovered a newfound confidence in myself. A sense of self-assurance one could only gain from letting go of all those petty societal norms and fully embracing oneself, even if the world couldn't.

I knew who I was and understood my purpose. I finally accepted the path I needed to follow to fulfill my destiny, a path I had to walk alone.

The old me, that pathetic, insecure, emotional wreck of a teenage girl, would have been devastated over this realization of a future of absolute solitude; yet I now had a different view.

With a new lease on life, I developed a fresh perspective.

And so, after throwing my schoolbag over my shoulder and hopping out of the Camaro, I headed up the front steps, quite eager to surprise faculty and students alike.

* * *

The registration process was a lot quicker this time around, with barely any paperwork needing to be produced as proof as to where I had disappeared during finals week. Part of me wondered if the school's latest principal was simply incompetent, but mostly I think he was far too wary to ask questions he didn't really want the answers to.

I was a Hale, and you didn't need to be part of the supernatural community to understand that when we left, our reasons and whereabouts were better left a mystery.

Thus, within minutes of strutting into the main office and handing in a few forged documents, I was given a new locker number and already making my way through those familiar, desolate halls.

Combination in hand as I went, the echoes of my heeled booties clacking down the corridor blended in with the muffled sounds of various teachers giving their lessons.

From behind closed doors I heard Miss Morrell's velvety voice reciting a sappy French poem, whilst Harris was busy harassing some poor student in the room next door.

"345… 346… 347… 348…"

Ms. Flemming's Calculus lecture seemed as boring as ever as I rounded the corner, only to catch part of Mr. Westover's typical rant as to why History was the most important discipline.

'Some things never change,' I thought to myself, soft chuckle escaping my quirked lips, but soon, I slowed down my search.

"380… 381… 382." I quickly looked from the slip back up to the wall of lockers: "382 B. _Great_."

I hated the B set. It was stacked on top of the A's and much harder to reach. Not to mention, I had always been convinced that they were smaller in size, though that hunch was never confirmed.

And as I debated whether or not to bring in a tape measure tomorrow and settle this, I started to work on the lock; yet once I input the combination and pulled, nothing happened.

Brows furrowed, I tried again, but the damned thing still wouldn't open.

God, this school was such a crapshoot.

"You have to jiggle it," a familiar female voice suddenly suggested from behind me, making me pause. "Apparently the school hands out crummy locks."

"You know, someone told me that once," I muttered, slowly turning to face none other than Allison Argent as I recalled the very first conversation the two of us ever had.

There she stood, curly brown hair lighter and cropped to about shoulder length as she flashed that characteristic dimpled smirk of hers; and while it still reached her warm eyes, it felt somewhat apprehensive as she stared at me.

"Must have been someone pretty smart," she quipped, heart rate even, though slightly elevated.

Intent gaze fixated on her porcelain face, I looked past the thin veil of friendliness she undoubtedly hoped would mask the true unease she felt. There were a wide range of emotions flashing behind those russet orbs, namely anxiety, guilt, and grief, and the very idea of feeling so much at once was enough to make my own head begin to spin.

"She'd certainly like to think so," I responded dryly, expression so flat that the young woman's genial face fell, and as she awkwardly fidgeted underneath my piercing gaze, I allowed a crooked grin to break my stony façade.

Practically sighing in relief once she realized that I was kidding, Allison laughed lightly and nodded her head, but soon, silence befell us again.

I could tell she didn't quite know what to say or do.

I recognized that helpless expression.

That same look was written across her face before we cleared the air after Winter Formal.

Not only had the young huntress discovered that Scott and I were werewolves that evening, but she also got to watch my homicidal father murder Kate.

But then again, her aunt wasn't some innocent victim, was she?

When it came to light that she had single-handedly orchestrated the slaughter of my entire family and set fire to the Hale mansion, she simply laughed before trying to force Allison to kill Scott.

That night, the brunette and I learned just how much our families had manipulated the two of us, and we were forced to come to terms with the fact that both sides in this feud were to blame. No one's hands were clean.

And now, here we were, in a similar if not more complicated situation.

In a last ditch effort to save McCall's life, Derek had bitten Mrs. Argent, leading to her suicide. In her heartache, an emotional Allison then turned to Gerard, who wasted no time in toying with her mind.

And I had to give it to the old bastard, he nearly drove his granddaughter insane. His only downfall was letting it slip that he actually _wanted_ to become the next Alpha… and admitting that he killed me, of course…

But much to his chagrin, I didn't stay down for long.

No, my OD'ing on wolfsbane was a blessing in disguise, for I not only became immune to the toxin, but according to Ava, my temporary death triggered an evolution in my abilities, strengthening my powers to a point where my inner wolf overtook my humanity.

Maybe I should swing by whatever hospice the sociopath's currently rotting in and give my thanks before he keels over…

"Charlie?" Allison's timid voice pulled me from my ruminations, and as I merely arched a brow, she continued: "I owe you an apology."

"For what?" I asked, genuinely confused by her remorsefulness.

The girl looked stunned.

Perhaps it was my nonchalance about the subject, cause to be honest, she did nearly go postal. You know, with almost killing Erica and Boyd, brutally stabbing Isaac in the back, and trying to murder my cousin.

But hey, no harm no foul, right?

So I added honestly: "It's not like you did anything to _me_."

Apparently my words did little to ease her conscience, for her troubled gaze just fell to her brown combat boots as she morosely whispered: "But you died."

"Eh, wasn't permanent," I shrugged, jostling the padlock and popping open my locker.

Back turned towards the human, I heard her shaky breath hitch at my blasé response.

I closed my eyes, attempting to remain patient with the bundle of nerves behind me.

"Listen," I tossed a few books into my white tote bag before turning back around. "The past is the past. There's no changing what happened. So the way I see it, you just gotta accept it and move on."

Yet again, I rendered the brunette speechless.

Watery eyes wide, Allison merely stared at me, further testing my patience, but then she did something unexpected: she smiled.

"Since when are you so emotionally adjusted?"

"When I lost my humanity," I replied, cocking a brow as I shot back playfully: "Since when do you cut class?"

Gaze drifting from the clock on the wall to the car keys in her delicate hands, the brunette didn't miss a beat: "When I stopped doing whatever my family wants."

My smirk broadened as I took in her defiant and determined demeanor.

I sort of liked this new Allison.

"I'll cover for you if anyone asks," I offered in approval, yet as I tossed my bag over my shoulder with the intent to leave, the girl's light-hearted expression grew serious.

"It's, um, it's good to see you."

From what I could sense, her words were genuine; however, there was still an air of reluctance floating about, as if she hoped I wouldn't make her regret them.

Breezy disposition dampening, I was yet again made aware of just how much no one trusted me.

"You too," I responded stiffly, turning on my heel and leaving both the huntress and her exasperating sentiments behind me.

* * *

"So, risk and reward. One of the easiest economics principles there are," Finstock's grating voice boomed as he paced about the front of the room. "I mean it. It's so simple that even my cousin Mikey, who got dropped on his head as a kid by my alcoholic Aunt Debbie could grasp it. Anyone? Anyone at all?"

As usual, there was no response, for the students were either too terrified to speak up or didn't know the answer. Regardless, the second Coach buried his face into his hands and sighed in frustration, I saw my window of opportunity.

"God, you all must be massive disappointments to your parents," he groaned as I slipped through the back door, unnoticed by all.

Or so I thought…

"Charlotte Hale!" I cringed from the far corner desk I had just claimed, and once every one of my peers' wide eyes landed on my rigid form, an eruption of indiscernible whispers broke out.

"I-is that really her?" one girl muttered to her stupefied friend, whilst a boy sitting behind her nudged his own: "Dude, did she always look like that?"

"I thought she left the school," a teen mumbled to my right.

"I thought she left the state," another countered.

Playing with the hem of my black and white tribal print shift dress, I tried to ignore my ogling classmates, only to spot a fretful Scott, slack-jawed Stiles, and pursed-lipped Lydia.

"Missed the first day of school and late for the second," Bobby spoke over the incessant chatter, smug smile spreading across his beefy face. "Remind us all how you barely passed sophomore year and explain this summer's reading to the class."

"Well," I thoughtfully crossed my arms, "I could risk sharing my honest opinion about you and your teaching abilities… or your general attitude towards everyone else…" I paused, allowing the fuming teacher to soak in the sound of sniggering students before flashing a fabricated smile: " _But_ I think I'll keep my mouth shut and accept a detention-free afternoon as my reward."

Soft chortles exploding into loud guffaws, I haughtily flipped my long, raven locks and took a seat, and for a second I could have sworn I saw the grouchy man stifling his own smirk.

"Good to know you're as obnoxious as ever," he shot back, before casting his harsh gaze elsewhere. "Anyone else?"

At this point, all present reverted back to avoiding Finstock's probing eyes, with the exception of a singular tan hand that slowly rose from the sea of hung heads.

"Yes, McCall, you can go to the bathroom," the lacrosse coach merely brushed him off, keen gaze still surveying the shirking crowd of adolescents.

"No, Coach," Scott sounded confident enough, yet his erratic pulse gave away the truth behind his posturing. "I know the answer."

Now it was the Beta's turn to be gawked at, and after about five solid minutes of the tactless teacher's thunderous cackles, he wiped away a few tears in an attempt to regain some semblance of control.

"O-oh," he cleared his hoarse throat, still gripping his side as he stared at the stone-faced pupil. "You're, uh, you're serious?"

Admittedly, it seemed hard to believe that the boy actually knew what class he was in right now, let alone the correct answer, for although Scott McCall possessed countless talents, academic proficiency was not among them. Being a selfless leader, fierce competitor, and genuinely kind person, sure. But a scholar? Well, that just seemed plain out of character.

"Y-yes," he was clearly thrown off, yet as his gangly best friend gave him an encouraging nod, McCall rattled off one of the most astute sentences I ever witnessed him utter.

"Risk and reward is the principle that a potential return rises with an increase in risk. Low levels of risk are associated with low returns, whereas high levels of risk are associated with high returns."

"Did McCall just say ' _whereas_ '?" O'Hara obnoxiously asked aloud, whilst Coach Finstock had to literally shake off his own astonishment.

"WOW!" he roared, making a shy, albeit proud grin spread across the tan teen's face. "Who are you, and what have you done with McCall? Y-you know what? Don't answer that," he quickly blurted out. "I like you better."

Clumsily leaning over to clap his pal's back, Stiles nearly fell out of his seat from the excitement as Bobby posed yet another question to the class: "Does anybody have a quarter?"

"Ah! I do!" the giddy dork immediately swiveled to face the other direction, jamming his hands into his pockets. "Got one right… right here!"

And after a momentary struggle, out popped something much less innocent than a mere quarter.

Caramel eyes bulging from his skull the instant he realized what was currently sailing through the air, the hyperactive spazz's blotchy face drained of all color as that thin, paper package flew a few desks behind him, only to land smack in the middle of the isle.

"Oh God…" he groaned painfully, but as that flustered, honey-suckle gaze floated up from the XXL condom to my manicured fingers plucking it from the ground, his expression became that much more priceless.

A crooked grin painted my face as I gave the mortified boy a quick wink before handing the contraceptive over to a thoroughly surprised Finstock.

"Stilinski, I think you, um, you dropped this," his raspy voice cut through the dead silence with such comical awkwardness that it took all I had to keep from bursting.

Fresh wave of giggles rippling throughout the room, the pale nerd simply sank deeper into his chair as our instructor returned the package with an impish nudge: "And congratulations."

Ears now the brightest shade of pink, Stiles swiftly shoved the condom back into his pants, barely noticing that Coach had strode to the front of classroom, having taken a quarter from Mahealani.

"Risk and reward," he grandly held up his prized "Coach Rules" mug, recapturing most students' attention. "Put the quarter in, win the reward."

" _Shut up_ ," I heard Stilinski hiss.

Tearing my eyes away from Finstock's poor demonstration of how to play "Quarters", I watched the grumpy kid scolding his sniggering best friend with an air of mild interest, but soon Stiles' gaze caught mine.

His words fell silent almost immediately, his elevated pulse rising that much more, but it wasn't embarrassment I sensed this time around, or apprehension.

It was different, and the longer I stared into those piercing orbs, the more I came to realize that we were both trying to figure each other out.

"So that's how you do it!" Coach finally addressed the class after his third attempt of bouncing the coin into the mug. "Okay, Danny. Risk or reward?"

"What's the reward?"

"You don't have to take the pop quiz tomorrow."

"Coach, it's not a pop quiz if you tell us about it," Danny pointed out, brows arched in amusement.

"Danny, you know, I really expect more from you at this point," Coach growled, irascibly snatching the coin from his fingers. "Really…"

Then, ignoring the teenager's chuckles, Coach turned and gruffly handed the quarter to Scott: "McCall. Risk or reward? Risk: if you don't put the quarter in the mug, you take the pop… the... the quiz," he quickly shot Mahealani a dangerous look before the boy could say anything else. "And… and you have to write an essay. Risk: more work. Reward: no work at all. Or choose not to play."

"But isn't this just chance?" McCall examined the quarter.

"No. You know your abilities, your coordination and focus, your past experience. All factors affect the outcome."

Expression rather torn, the Beta clearly knew his likelihood of success was high, but then again, he had an unfair advantage, and like the tiresomely moral person he was, he shook his head: "No play."

"Okay," Coach swiped the coin, "Who's next? Who wants the quarter?"

Evidently Stilinski's rebound time from public humiliation was a tenth of second, for the kid loudly drummed his desk before eagerly volunteering.

"There you go! There's a gambling man! Step up, step up!" Coach bellowed with just as much enthusiasm while the school's biggest spazz hopped up from his desk, took position, and began stretching in the most animated of fashions.

"All right, Stilinski," Bobby clapped as the dweeb squatted in preparation; but just as he was about to play, an unexpected voice interrupted.

"Stiles."

Too engrossed in his current activity, the pale teen didn't bother looking up: "Yeah, Coach. I got it."

"Stiles," Sheriff Stilinski repeated from where he stood in the doorway, his face void of all emotion.

The same, however, could not be said for the two deputies standing just behind John.

Expressions grave, they were barely able to look the teen in the face as he finally glanced up in realization, and as he turned to his father, the man's stoicism gave way to deep concern.

This couldn't be good…

"Stiles, could you please step outside?" he stiffly asked.

Offering a reluctant nod, Stilinski followed his dad into the hallway, his heart racing wildly while the deputies closed the door behind them.

But before the unnerved class could begin hypothesizing as to what was transpiring, Coach Finstock picked the lesson back up, his coarse voice drowning out the conversation going on just outside.

Well, for the humans that is.

I didn't necessarily care what brought the sheriff here, but if it was Alpha related, I figured I should at least pay attention. I mean, Lord knew the holier than thou McCall pack wouldn't _willingly_ share anything. They already made up their minds about the new Charlie, and she was not to be trusted.

"I couldn't find her. I figured she just met up with her other friends. Has no one really seen her since last night?" the amount of alarm behind the dork's words would have ordinarily led me to believe that this was about Lydia, but as I looked from the strawberry blonde exchanging worried looks with Scott, I scowled.

Who was this girl?

What could she possibly mean to Stiles?

"No. We put out an APB, but Stiles, all of her friends said you were the last person who saw her."

"M-me?"

"We hope it's just a bad series of decisions from having too much to drink," the sheriff mused aloud, confirming my hunch that whomever this person was, she was at that same _stupid_ party Scott and Stiles had come from yesterday. "If you remember anything else, you call me alright?"

"REWARD!" Coach cheered over Stilinski's muffled response, only for the bell to ring, ending not only the class period, but my curiosity, as well.

Eager to leave before anyone approached me, I promptly collected my books and slipped out the back; yet just as I stepped through the doorway, I found myself cornered by none other than Kyle Greenberg.

"I heard you were back," the blue-eyed boy was breathless, having sprinted from God-knows-where to catch up with my elusive self.

"News travels fast around here, huh?" I dryly retorted while trying to side step away.

"Well when it's about you," the bespeckled teen mirrored my movements, his eager gaze drifting over my standoffish form, "Looking like this…"

My body stiffened as I fought the urge to wallop him.

"Oh no. There's _no_ way you get to talk to Charlie before her best friend does," a pitchy voice cut in whilst I silently thanked my lucky stars; however, when I turned to look upon my apparent savior, my spirits sank right back down, for there stood Beacon Hills' queen bee.

Glossed lips pursed, Lydia's hazel eyes were fixated on me rather than my cranky companion as she continued with the usual amount of sass: " _If_ I even allow her to keep such a privileged title."

My lip quirked.

I always did enjoy her snark.

Too impatient to wait for Greenberg's consent, Miss Martin then reached forward, grabbed my black leather vest, and dragged me down the hall with nothing more than a loud sigh.

"So," she finally stated, regarding me with deep scrutiny, "you had time to update your wardrobe but couldn't find time to pick up a phone?"

"Maybe I was trying to surprise you?" a wry grin decorated my face as I watched Greenberg skulk away.

"With what? Your sudden sense of style or the fact that you're still alive?" she countered testily.

I decided to take that backhanded compliment at face value, breezily quipping: "Don't tell me you were worried about little old me."

"Yes, I was," she crossed her arms and added: "We all were actually."

I snorted.

Right… I'm sure they were just _so_ worried…

"I don't see what's so funny!" Lydia snapped heatedly, making a few passers-by stare.

"Could you lower your voice?" I growled, practically wincing underneath every pair of eyes that were now glued to us.

The queen bee blinked a bit, only to realize what had me so on edge.

"Oh for the love of God," she rolled her eyes in exasperation. "You're surprised they're staring? With all the rumors flying around about your disappearance?"

Watching the pretty redhead swap out some books, I asked with keen interest: "Rumors? What kind of rumors?"

Again, Miss Martin was less than thrilled by my lightheartedness and merely gave me a sharp look as she slammed her locker shut.

I had to admit, I was somewhat disappointed.

Clearly she wasn't going to disclose any of the juicy gossip surrounding yours truly, so I went a different route: "I'm surprised anyone even noticed I left. I figured the entire student body would be too devastated over Jackson moving to… to…"

"To London," she stiffly finished, voice a bit higher than usual.

Had I been capable of empathizing, I would've tried to comfort the obviously distressed girl, but that part of me was gone.

"Right. So, uh, no one's heard from him?" I ventured awkwardly, catching a whiff of two familiar scents.

"Well, Derek gave him the whole 'werewolf 101' thing before he and his dad took off, and he texted me when they landed safely, so… if you'd count that, then yes."

Too busy scanning the packed corridor, I missed the bitterness lacing Lydia's words as I lazily offered: "Well at least you were the last one he spoke to."

"You're kidding me, right?" the strawberry blonde incredulously asked, forcing my gaze back to hers.

Again with the shouting…

Running a hand through my long, curly locks, I ignored everyone's shifty glances and mumbled: "I guess?"

"The love of my life says good-bye forever over a _text message_ , and you act as though I should be _happy_ about that?" her voice shook with just as much violence as her incensed form.

Good going, Charlie. Put your foot in your mouth again.

Well, at least that stellar part of my personality didn't change…

"I mean no, but um, it's… its kind of a carte blanche right?" The girl's irritation was quickly replaced with confusion, so I clarified: "You know, a blank check?"

"I know what 'carte blanche' means," she hissed.

"Good," the small smirk creeping across my face evidently surprised the testy teen. "Cause I'd hate to think of you pining over some boy that's an ocean away when there's a whole school filled with them."

"I don't _pine_ over anyone," she stuck her nose up in the air.

"So then you're listening to your own advice. You know, about the whole distraction thing?"

The human's austere expression quickly softened as her glossed lips curled into a coy grin: "A lady never tells."

I laughed, knowing full well that the queen bee had probably been 'distracting' herself with several different suitors already, and as we exchanged roguish smirks, the second bell rang.

"Well, I have to get going," she sighed, all remnants of whatever hurt she had been harboring towards me seemingly gone. "Sit together at lunch?"

"Sure," I nodded, swallowing my smile as I headed off to my next class, walking right passed two very obvious eavesdroppers that were trying and failing to blend into a crowd of freshman.

Leaving a trail of fresh whispers in my wake, I felt the sensation of those two dweebs encroaching upon my personal space; so without warning, I spun around.

"Aah!" Stiles yelped, flinching alongside an equally startled Scott.

"What do you creeps want?" I demanded, holding my hand up to silence Stilinski before he could begin babbling. "And please, if your scents didn't give you two away, your heavy mouth breathing certainly did."

Jaw practically unhinged, a highly offended Stiles opened his mouth again; however, the lanky nerd's best friend wisely spoke over him.

"We want to go over the plan."

"Oh, you mean the plan to break into the bank. The one that you said you'd have ready in minutes," I quirked a brow. "But that was, what? Nine and half hours ago?"

"Yeah," McCall was now equally as peeved as his counterpart, the bags quite apparent underneath both of their eyes from a long night of fruitless research. "That one."

"Well," I looked between both of their grumpy faces, sadistic glee bubbling up inside of me as I decided to goad them some more: "Considering you made us wait, seems only fair we make you do the same."

"Oh, come on!" Stiles erupted, waving about wildly.

"Derek's loft. 5 o'clock," I cryptically stated, turning back around to continue along my merry way: "Don't be late."

"But… but what are we supposed to do until then?" Scott called after me, tone laughably helpless.

"I don't know, take a nap? You both look like you could use one," I suggested over my shoulder, assessing both whiney teens with a snigger. "Besides, I got a feeling tonight's gonna be a long one."


End file.
